Case Number 06557

DIG!

The Charge

"In every spiritual tradition, you burn in hell for pretending to be god
and not being able to back it up!" -- Brian Jonestown Massacre's Matt
Hollywood to frontman Anton Newcombe

Opening Statement

Ego is as vital to any artist as ability. While stories surface of the
unselfish performer who seems grounded in both their personality and public
persona, the truth is, people don't gravitate toward a career in entertainment
for their physical health or the financial windfall. Less than 1% ever become
famous, or even achieve all the pleasantries and perks that go along with such a
status. No, the vast majority of actors, writers, singers, songwriters, bands,
musicians, directors, etc., get into the business called show to experience an
inflation of their sense of self. Adoration is addictive. It's better than any
drug and a helluva lot more potent. There is no other arena that offers such a
skyrocket to esteem.

But sometimes, ego can undermine even the most noble of intentions. By its
very definition, being centered on one's self means listening to only one voice.
And when that sound is soiled by drugs, mental illness, internal struggles,
and/or external stresses, the accent alters and mutates from helpful to harmful.
Where once there was clarity, there is now chaos. Where once a troubadour stood,
now lurks a troublemaker. There is perhaps no better example of genius
squandered and ego in overdrive than Anton Newcombe. For over a decade, he has
fronted one of the greatest underground rock bands ever to actually live up to
said hype. Named for the famous first casualty of The Rolling Stones, and paying
holy homage to the music of the mid-'60s, the Brian Jonestown Massacre was
poised to be the pinnacle of a post-grunge revolution.

Too bad The Dandy Warhols had to come along and swipe their sunshine.
Friends and collaborators with a common interest in the cool karmic cacophony of
Summer of Love sonics, The Dandys represented the pop side of the emerging
scene. Before Newcombe knew it, his idol and intimate Courtney Taylor was off to
Major Label land, spending Capital's money on the whole rock star shebang. Thus
began a contentious relationship that ended in mixed feelings and even more
muddled messages. The Brian Jonestown Massacre remained a boisterous blip on the
local scene. The Dandys exploded, becoming a hugely popular band in Europe.
Amazingly, documentary filmmaker Ondi Timoner was there to capture it all. For
seven years she took the long strange trip from infancy to infamy with the
Dandys and the Massacre. The result is DiG!, perhaps the best documentary
ever made about life on the outskirts of rock and roll stardom.

Facts of the Case

Along that long strip of coastline that connects San Francisco, CA to
Portland, OR, a new music scene was emerging. It based its beliefs in the power
of the past while employing the technology of the times to articulate and
recreate it. Two of the best examples of this ideal were -- and still are -- the
Brian Jonestown Massacre and The Dandy Warhols. At the time, the Dandys
consisted of Courtney Taylor (guitar, vocals), Peter Holmstrom (guitar), Zia
McCabe (keyboards, percussion), and Eric Hedford (drums). The Massacre, on the
other hand, had a floating menagerie of musicians involved in their sound.
However, the core unit in 1997 included leader Anton Newcombe, Joel Gion
(percussion), Matt Hollywood (bass, guitar, vocals), Dean Taylor (guitar), Jeff
Davis (guitar), and Peter Hayes (guitar). While there was a kind of casual
rivalry between the bands, each acknowledged the brilliance of the other, and
they supported each other in any way that they could.

Enter filmmaker Ondi Timoner. From her experiences making documentaries for
MTV and VH-1, she had an idea. She would pick 10 bands from the San
Fran/Portland area and make them the focus of a film. She would follow them,
document their career arcs, and hope for something historic to happen. What she
got, instead, was the story of one band's rise to the upper middle of the music
business, while another, equally talented entity shuffled off into the
self-destructive deep end. Timoner soon realized that her film, DiG!, had
to be about the Dandys and the Massacre. What she captured was an amazing
analogy for how both integrity and the industry destroys music and musicians.
Culled from interviews, concert material, hidden camera footage, and a couple of
staged sequences, this fascinating film chronicles seven years in the life of
two incredibly talented bands, highlighting both the fun and the frustration to
be found in being a performer in the modern music maelstrom.

The Evidence

What is it about 2004 that made it such a stellar year for rock and roll
documentaries? First came Metallica: Some Kind of Monster, a film that
proved that fame and personality flaws could f*ck up even the most popular metal
band on the planet. Instead of celebrating the sex and drugs, the film argued
that celebrity contained pains we could barely comprehend. Then there was End
of the Century: The Story of the Ramones, a movie that proved that even old
time punks could be pissed off prima donnas when they wanted -- or needed -- to
be. As amazing and influential as the bruddahs from Queens were, their personal
interaction was more volatile and vindictive than we could possibly have
imagined. Now comes DiG!, without a doubt, one of the most mesmerizing
music movie experiences ever captured on film. Using the rise of the Dandy
Warhols as a counterpoint to the fervent fall of Brian Jonestown Massacre
frontman Anton Newcombe, Ondi Timoner's tale of talent misplaced and mistreated
holds its own among the classics of the rock-doc genre. There has never been a
better film at capturing the self-destructive nature of notoriety, or the
desperation that comes from a desire for total acknowledgement and universal
acceptance.

At its core, DiG! is a movie about commitment. It's about wanting to
be an artist, or a careerist, in the often-hostile waters of mainstream music
stardom. At the center of this hummable hurricane are two complete polar
opposites -- Anton Newcombe from the psychedelic Stones-esque Brian Jonestown
Massacre and Courtney Taylor, of the glossy groove crew known as The Dandy
Warhols. They are the alleged New Age alter egos of Jagger and Richards or
Lennon and McCartney, a post-modern pairing strikingly similar to the early '80s
enigma of Julian Cope and Ian McCulloch. And each was mining from the same sonic
crypt. Together, both the Dandys and the Massacre were locked in a sort of sunny
California limbo, channeling the moment in music between Monterey Pop and
electric Kool-aid acidity. The Dandys were more upbeat and bouncy. The Massacre
was somber and slower. The Dandys consistently sounded like the party band for a
swinging '60s celebration. The Massacre appeared to be playing the death dirges
for an Altamonte after-show. Together, they threatened to bring back the head
shop sounds of a blissed-out era.

What differentiated the groups, aside from their frontmen and their sound,
however, was the individual notions each had as to what music is really supposed
to signify. For Newcombe, life as an artist meant the maintenance of credibility
at all costs. It required marrying one's muse and sticking to it, in sickness
and in health, 'til death -- or a major label record deal -- do you part. Taylor
on the other hand, entertained and enjoyed the special sanctified glare of the
spotlight. He readily put on the glam rocker regalia and did a dunce's dance, as
long as it got his band exposure and his songs out to the masses. Both men
wanted the same sacred goal: to touch people with the noises that they made and
the way that they made them. But Newcombe was never willing to sign his soul
away for success. He defended his position to the detriment of everything around
him -- family, friends, contracts, and concerts. Taylor simply let his ethos get
tainted for a while, hoping it would help sell some CDs, or get a Dandys video a
few rotational spins on MTV.

That these total philosophical opposites could ever have been friends, let
alone mutually considered contemporaries, is part of DiG!'s delicious
premise. Taylor fawns over BJM (the scene-abbreviated nickname for the band)
while Newcombe is seen shamelessly shilling for the Dandys at the start of the
film. Both are obviously fans of the other, and such a mutual admiration society
is destined to get pretty prickly after a while. There is a level of healthy
competition flowing between these two from the beginning, a
brothers-in-anarchical-arms principle that keeps the pop pistons pumping. Where
things begin to fall apart apparently occurs right around the time that Capital
Records comes calling. The Massacre is seen as the much stronger band,
aesthetically, much more settled in its rock references and reality. The Dandys
are sort of dismissed as commercial kitsch, the kind of act that would be better
known more for its Gap ad than their catalog of great tunes. Naturally, the far
more professional Dandys got the nod (we discover that BJM was never really in
consideration), and thus begins a rather obtuse love/hate relationship between
the two bands, an indecipherable exchange of hurt feelings, wounded pride and
outright anger that seems based more in petty jealousy than high-minded
conceits.

What's amazing about DiG! is that it does not reveal this over the
short span of a tour, or in the course of the recording of an album. Unlike
Some Kind of Monster, which focused on the St. Anger sessions, or
End of the Century, which was a retrospective look back long after the
fact, DiG! is there when all of this happens, capturing it as it actually
occurs. There is an immediacy and an energy in this approach that separates this
sensational documentary from the rest, creating an unpredictability and a sense
of suspense that heightens all the histrionics. You never know when Anton is
going to implode, or when Courtney will stick another conceited foot in his
already-full mouth. Fists fly, as does the faux-philosophical flowers of
language. Naturally, both leaders have a crazy cast of ancillary characters
surrounding them, and Anton's collective is particularly cracked. If this film
makes a star out of anyone beside the formidable frontmen, percussionist Joel
Gion is next on the notoriety scales. Wearing outrageous '60s sunglasses and
vamping like a far more masculine Divine, Gion is the joking jester to
Newcombe's tormented Lear, the nonchalant fan face of the always grave
group.

The Dandys are a tad too indistinct to have such a showpiece around the
outskirts of Courtney's atmosphere. As the only girl, Zia McCabe does tend to
stand out, but both Peter and Eric (who later leaves the band under unclear
circumstances) are more than happy with their role as sidemen. If there is one
completely unhappy camper in all of DiG!, it is Massacre
bassist/songwriter Matt Hollywood. Looking like an infantile John Lennon and
constantly struggling with a lack of respect from Anton and the audience (who
naturally assumes Newcombe does everything), Matt seems to be the most miserable
of anyone in the scene. Even while Anton is sliding in and out of sanity, and
The Dandys are battling their indifferent label, Matt appears mired in an
illogical anger fueled by a false feeling of limited recognition. It's no
surprise then that he starts most of the fights, and suffers most of the
insults, at the hands of his fellow bandmates. In many ways, Matt Hollywood is
the voice of professionalism and reason that the Massacre refused to abide by.
The friction found there really helps to define the dynamics that exist between
musician and moneymakers, one of DiG!'s biggest issues.

Another thing we experience very clearly is the notion that director Ondi
Timoner really cares for both of these bands. She wants to see them each do
well, to succeed in an industry that has a self-described 90% failure rate. She
uses her film as an exposé of sorts, showing how artists are viewed as
commercial commodities, even by the most righteous record companies. When it
comes down to it, Timoner argues that the current music industry is modeling
itself after the blockbuster-bound Hollywood motion picture process. It is
looking for a huge, out of the gate hit, a large set of Soundscan scores and an
impressive chart run before it pumps more time and effort into a band. If there
is not that instant connection with the audience -- and frankly, it is hard to
name a band that arrives out of the gates as certified universal superstars --
then the video budgets disappear and the promotion dries up like a puddle in the
desert sun. DiG! debates the merits of such an approach, suggesting that
the Dandys and the Massacre's best work is being ignored in the constant race
for hits and airplay. Worse, the groups' artistic merits are being squandered by
a desire for cash, not creativity.

All profit-margin pontification aside, DiG! is really the in-depth
exploration of two incredible charismatic and complex individuals. For all his
ranting and raving, Newcombe does more than just talk the talk. He walks the
walk, he produces the product, and believes infallibly in the power of his
music. While his mental stability can be questioned, his devotion to songwriting
and performing cannot. For all his narcissistic naysaying, Taylor is also a man
in love with rhythms and the reasons for rock and roll. While he may come across
as disaffected and aloof off stage, he and his band are a powerhouse on stage,
and have crafted several sensational albums of anthemic songs. The Massacre's
catalog is equally meaty, and if DiG! does nothing else, it should have
you running out to your local record store -- or band website -- to purchase a
few newfound now-favorite CDs. But this film should also function as a primer
for anyone interested in making a career out of being a musician. DiG!
warns of the mistaken belief that overnight sensation status is just a signature
away, that companies really care about artists, or that egos can exist within
the same space without crashing into each other.

In essence, DiG! is designed to show the dedication required for a
life in service of one's talent. It proves that, even without jobs or a
significant means of support, endowment provides its own rewards and way of
life. There is no doubting that the Dandys are more popular than the Massacre,
but that is by no means a measure of aptitude or skill. Some could write off
both acts as nothing more than retro-rejects digging through a treasure trove of
classic cock rock chestnuts that someone else stored away for safe keeping, but
that would diminish two terrific bands. If there is one minor flaw, and it's so
small as to be insignificant, it's that Timoner downplays the sounds she is
supposed to be celebrating, thereby leaving us unable to judge for ourselves the
might in the music (unless you are a fan of both bands -- which this critic is
-- then you already know how amazing they are). As a lesson in the unwritten
rules of rock and roll, DiG! is invaluable. As a motion picture, however,
it really does stands shoulder to shoulder with other classic documentaries.

Palm Pictures should be proud of the DVD package they have provided for
DiG!. Without a doubt, this is one of the best digital presentations,
both technically and contextually, that you will find on the market today. Even
with the limited budget and production values available to director Timoner,
DiG! still looks damn fine. The 1.33:1 full screen image sparkles with a
fresh washed radiance that makes the multimedia aspects (the crew shot on video,
digital, 16mm, and 8mm film) that much more impressive. DiG! is really a
collage set to collapse, a scrapbook of half-saved snippets and pristine EPK
material mixed into a frothy foam of filmic finery. The resulting transfer is
terrific, keeping completely with the DIY spirit of the subject and their
philosophies. Everything, from the framing to the editing, the compositions and
the mastering, looks miraculous. The director of DiG! couldn't have asked
for a better visual representation of her film.

As glorious as the visual side of the palette plays, the sonic situation is
equally astounding. There are two separate soundtracks here -- one each in Dolby
Digital Stereo and 5.1 -- and both are brilliant. Naturally, conversations are
clear and dialogue is always discernable. But it's the music that really
reverberates in the mix. Timoner makes the wise choice of dubbing in the
recorded versions of songs featured in the concert footage, making sure we have
the best possible version of the tunes available. It can sound a little weird,
seeing the Dandys play something that really couldn't be captured live, but this
doesn't take away from the authority of the noise. Many of the live sets are
kept intact however, and they have a power and a presence all their own.

Where DiG! really excels, however, is in the bonus feature arena.
Spread out over two discs, the compendium of complimentary and supplementary
material offered here is mind bending. Disc One contains a collection of
commentaries (three in all) and an interactive technology called Link-Outs. For
those of you familiar with New Line's Infinifilm DVDs, Link-Outs are very
similar. A little icon appears in the bottom right hand corner of the screen,
and when you hit the enter button on your remote, you are whisked away to
deleted scenes and outtakes from the film. The interesting thing is that many of
these moments are necessary to understand both the context and the circumstances
of the sequences being shown. You get approximately ten Link-Outs on the first
DiG! DVD, and each one is crucial to the narrative drive of the
movie.

The remaining material on Disc One is made up of commentaries. One contains
the participation of ex-members of the Brian Jonestown Massacre -- Matt
Hollywood, Joel Gion, Miranda Lee Richards, Dean Taylor, and ex-manager Dave
Derinski. The former Massacre men are ruthless, letting go with a steady stream
of jibes and quips, making it very clear on what side of the story their
interests still remain. For a band that appeared on the verge of a brawl every
few moments, they get along surprisingly well here, even laughing at the times
when Anton is at his worst. While it would have been nice to hear what the
elusive, egomaniacal leader thought of this film (see below), at least we get
the chance to hear how others outside his circle of influence were affected by
the movie. Fortunately, it appears everything turned out for the best for all
involved.

On track two, the Dandys are, naturally, all present and accounted for.
Courtney leads the way most of the time, and it takes a while for the rest of
the band to join in. But once they do, we learn a great deal about the amount of
fun they had, and frustration they faced, during this particular time in their
career. Even years later, the group is still touting the Massacre as one of the
greatest acts ever, and provide a few drug-fueled anecdotes about their times
with Anton and the boys. If the Massacre spend their time refuting facts and
setting the record straight, Courtney enjoys re-explaining himself. He is not
really sorry for some of the sillier things he said in the film -- he just
believes they need a little additional clarification.

Perhaps the most unbiased alternate narrative comes from Timoner, her
brother David, and cinematographer Vasco Nunes. The director laments that she
can't show her original, five hour cut of the film (the movie was culled from
over 2000 hours of material) and describes, in detail, the instances of dramatic
license that were necessary for narrative clarity. She also sheepishly
acknowledges that both bands now seem to lament their participation in this
project. Genial and very engaging, this commentary provides the final piece in
the perplexing puzzle that is DiG! It allows us to understand all sides
of the issue, with Anton being the only noticeably absent voice.

Disc Two starts us off with another two hours of footage, amazing material
that had to be cut from the film or condensed in order to get the running time
under control. Make sure you spend time with these sequences, otherwise you'd
never learn of how Joel violated FAA regulations by flying with a fake ID, how
the Dandys reacted to their first taste of fame, or Anton's opinions on Charles
Manson and the madman's music. In addition, we can see both the Dandys and the
Massacre in full rock show mode as the DVD provides three Dandys videos
("TV Theme Song," "Last High," "Bohemian Like
You") and three live clips (for "Oh Lord," "Jesus" and
"Anemone") from the Massacre. In addition, Courtney and Anton sit down
for an impromptu jam that is caught on film, and we get a lot of footage from
when the film premiered (and walked away with awards) at the Sundance Film
Festival.

Anyone interested in the current status of the Dandys or the Massacre will
also enjoy the "Where Are They Now?" sequences. We catch up with Joel,
Matt Hollywood, ex-Dandy drummer Eric Hedford, the Dandys themselves, and
additional members of the Massacre. Each installment is incredibly entertaining,
and allows some perspective to filter in. Naturally, the Dandys come off the
best, as Zia and Peter have each gotten married and the band have used some
video money to buy a performance space that they have labeled the Odditorium.
Perfectly packaged in a gatefold case that makes the DVD appear like a book,
DiG! does deserve to be recognized as some manner of rock and roll
encyclopedia. Both the movie and the discs pack in so much material that it's
hard to feel uninformed after it's all over.

Closing Statement

Perhaps it will come as no surprise that, on his band's website, Anton
Newcombe condemns DiG! as being a "Jerry Springer-esque"
representation of his personality and the problems with the band. Reiterating
his stance that his time and his talent are not for sale, he is saddened by what
he sees as a "lowest common denominator" approach to his mind and his
music. Even a decade and a series of debacles later, he is still functioning
with a fully formed, almost omnipresent ego. He is still making records (as a
matter of fact, Tee Pee Records has just put out an amazing retrospective on the
band, a two-CD set called Tepid Peppermint Wonderland) and working with a
new set of Massacre maniacs.

But one still senses that Anton has, somehow, completely missed the big
picture here. A post-mortem declaration of genius, by its very nature, falls on
the deafened ears of the one who wishes to hear it the most. Ethics or not,
there is nothing really wrong with success. Both can occur, especially in an age
where technology is teaching the recording industry a thing or two about fan
demand and mean-spirited monopolies. If anyone should embrace the power of the
people over the current crooked corporate system, it should be Newcombe. It's
what he's fought for his entire career. Too bad he's too lost in his own
ephemera to realize it. There is a world ready to buy into what he has to say --
this amazing movie more than proves it. We can DiG! it, Anton. You should
DiG! it too.

The Verdict

Along with Metallica: Some Kind of Monster and End of the Century:
The Story of the Ramones, DiG! is also one of the best pictures, and
DVDs, of the year. All charges against everyone involved are dismissed with
extreme prejudice. There is no way anyone could accurately charge everyone
involved in the process with creating anything other than a modern
masterpiece.